Years Later
by littlegirlgonemad
Summary: It's infuriating that he can't without causing a scandal. He can imagine the headlines- Minister for Magic Sacked for Socking.


**One**

Scorpius watches as the last bird flies across the flawless blue sky. It seems a bit too cliché, he thinks. The sun shining, the birds actually chirping _without_ getting on his nerves, the flowers blooming… It's all too suspiciously perfect. He shuffles the papers on his desk, expecting some sort of prank to be hidden there. He finds nothing. And sighs. Maybe they've grown up, they won't prank him anymore. He should try it too, growing up. It might do him good.

_Knock, knock._

It's probably some new manifesto or something for him to sign. He's sick of it. Being the youngest Minister for Magic since… well, since forever _did _have its perks- it paid well, nice house. But what does he need those for? He's a Malfoy- he already _has_ all of that- and _more_.

But the hours he has to put in- they're _ridiculous. _So that's social life out the window. Not that he had one to begin with. And they amount of signing he has to do? He's almost shocked. He's used up less ink writing answers for McGonagall during his seven Hogwarts years than he has in the past seven months as Minister for Magic. And the people he has to meet- reporters, interviewers- and the idiots he has to put up with…

That brunette from _Witch Weekly_… Minister? Is it very difficult to be Minister for Magic? What's your favourite colour? Why do you like to eat? What shoe do you put on first?

Really… if he didn't have these bloody interviews and _press conferences _with snoops from the Daily Prophet, he's sure he could get more work done every week. But that damned schedule of his… no room to breathe.

_Knock, knock._

It must be that earnest new secretary of his. He can't for the life of him remember the blighter's name- something with W… he's sure of it. Scorpius wishes for the millionth time that he could punch that git in the solar plexus and get the greasiness out of his hair, voice and manner.

It's infuriating that he can't without causing a scandal. He can imagine the headlines- _Minister for Magic Sacked for Socking. _He shouldn't have dumped that Skeeter girl so publically in seventh year.

But in his defence, when he had asked her to the Yule Ball, he had _told_ her that it wouldn't be anything serious- that it was just a date to the dance...And frankly- she was a daft dimbo as far as he was concerned. Especially compared to the girl he hadn't had the nerve to ask…

_Knock, knock._

There's the damned knocking again. He wishes he could escape it all and just… _disappear. _Even for an hour. He yearns for some time without all the Bills to be passed and bloody archaic Laws to be tweaked; without all the load of hippogriff dung going on in the world weighing on his mind.

_Knock, knock._

It's the knocking again (he's sure he could just about use an Unforgivable- _damn _Azkaban) and this time, it's accompanied by a voice.

'Minister?' the voice asks- it's that fool of a secretary. 'Minister? You have a visitor.'

A visitor? It's although he's never heard that word before. Scorpius is a recluse, and the whole world knows it. And no one dares to make him change. So who could it be- this mysterious, nameless visitor? Who has the time to squander, the thoughts to waste on him? To _visit _him?

Or he could just be getting ahead of himself. It could just be another stupid reporter, or an idiot activist. Couldn't they see he was trying hard already? That he was doing his best? That he was _goddamn human? _

It's probably someone he should be able to wave away. A polite smile, a couple of well-rehearsed and politically correct sentences should see them off.

_Knock, knock._

'Minister? May I send in your visitor?'

Scorpius groans softly, giving up the pretence of not being there. He clears his throat.

'Send them in, Wally.'

'It's Wallonby, sir.'

'Right.'

He'll try and keep that in mind this time, he promises himself. But he knows that he won't. He can't be bothered.

Scorpius straightens up, looking to present a neat, efficient and organised front. The door to his office opens and in steps someone he hasn't seen in years.

And certainly doesn't wish to see now.

'You kept me waiting a long time, Minister,' the person says, smiling wryly.

Scorpius squirms uncomfortably. It's _her_, that witch from his not-so-distant past. But he's tried forgetting her, he _really_ has. And he thought that he'd succeeded in pushing her out of his mind, heart and soul. But seeing her, all his failures flood his mind.

She's just like he remembers. That untameable red hair tied away from her face, but somehow it looks fuller and more relaxed than before, if that's possible. Her blue eyes are familiarly clear- nothing spectacular, or breathtakingly beautiful- but they're unique and they sparkle sarcastically.

Her skin has dulled over the past couple of years- well, she isn't seventeen anymore, and she's probably working longer hours than him, and sleeping significantly less than when she was Hogwarts Head-Girl. She's always been a hard-worker, the way he knows her. She'd use up the midnight oil and then conjure up more, slaving away into the early dawn. She's got dark circles under those intelligent eyes of hers. But they make her look strangely alluring, like a mysterious apparition.

'Ah Minister- sorry to interrupt your er… _musings,' _she says coughing slightly, 'but I've only really got a moment.'

'Oh…' Scorpius says clearly at a loss for words.

But then she's always rendered him speechless. It's nothing he isn't used to. But this time, it's not his fault. After all, _she's _the one who's come to meet him. Not the other way round. And he hasn't summoned her about her _precious_ Auror Department either. It's probably the only fully functioning Department in the Ministry.

And he knows that it's all her doing.

She's Auror _Weasley_, after all. _Rose_ Weasley- formidable, brilliant, charismatic.

Everything he isn't. Everything he wishes he could be.

So why is she here? If her time's so precious to her? Why waste it on an _old_ _friend_ she'd dumped by the wayside when she'd gotten sick of him? And why is she acting like he's the one keeping her waiting? Why doesn't she just get on with whatever it is that she has to say and then just leave him to his thoughts?

'Er… Minister?' she asks again, slightly perturbed, 'Are you all right?'

'Yes.' Scorpius replies curtly, thinking back to all the times when she'd nursed him back to health, asking him the same question over and over again, with worried eyes and a small frown and the concern clear in her voice.

All those Quidditch injuries, the allergic reaction to Nevi- _Professor_ _Longbottom's _plants and those nasty Muggle illnesses- _colds_, she'd called them. She had always been so soft and gentle, and _understanding _when he'd been sick. She'd tell him jokes, get him all the homework, and sneak him chocolate from Hogsmeade.

And he was really grateful to her being such a good friend.

Rose hadn't thrown him away. Not _really._ It was his fault. _He'd _been the one to distance himself from her. He doesn't remember now _why _exactly he'd do such a stupid thing. But he had. And he still regrets it.

'Minister? Are you sure you're alright?' She asks him, half smirking, half worried. 'I could come back another time, but then the visit wouldn't serve _quite_ the purpose I had in mind. Should I leave?'

'Er… no. It's alright. What were you saying? I'm fine, I'm fine. Just overworked. Never expected so much…' he's muttering now as she watches bemused, '…more ink than McGonagall required. Strange. Odd. Most singular. Curi-'

'You're rambling, Minister,' Rose cuts him off, smirking wider.

That smirk. It's always made him go weak in the knees. Back in Hogwarts too, that's what would happen. They'd be conducting a perfectly normal conversation and she'd find something funny and she'd smirk- like a kneazle that got the cream. And then- all rational thought would leave his brain- all he could think of were those smiling pink lips and those large but perfectly straight teeth and that amused glint in her eyes.

And he'd start rambling.

Rose'd known the power of her smirks. And she'd _abused_ it on occasion. As Head Boy and Girl they'd often argued over trivial things, but she'd smirk and he's forget the whole _point _of his argument and babble about something insignificant.

Well, his vocabulary had improved, as a result. She'd turned him into a walking thesaurus with those smirks- and maybe that's at least _partly_ why he can side-step all those icky questions that the preying reporters lay out for him to be trapped in.

He knew that she knew what her smirks could do- and he knew that she knew that he knew.

But whether she remembers… well, it's certainly seems like that, given the fact that she's smirking at him right now- having a private laugh at his expense.

Is that why she's come? To see whether she still has that sort of a hold on him? And whether she can use it against him? For illegal… _stuff_… to mess with his _precious _Ministry…

'Minister? Would you _please_ listen? Please? Just listen and don't- don't slip into one of those _daydreams _of yours…Minister?' she's asks, smiling slightly but she looks a bit desperate now.

So she remembers his daydreams, eh? The way he used to er…'zone out' as it were, during class and yet manage to retain _every single thing _that even _Binns_ had uttered. And the way he used to daydream in the sunlit warmth of the library… about _that witch_… that woman who put the 'R' in colour…

He's slipping into one now, a daydream. It's been getting worse over the months he's been Minister- he's overworked, sick of policy making and public relations and he admits to his subconscious that maybe, daydreaming lets him forget all that for a while and retire to the quieter and lazier corners of his mind.

Something else's changed too; he can't remember anything of what's said when he's daydreaming and that proves to be slightly inconvenient- he's been slipping lately. Tripping over the traps laid out for him by Skeeter and her cronies. But he's quick to snap out of it, he doesn't sink all that deep into his daydreams.

Yet.

But he knows that it's just a matter of time before his daydreams will be his undoing.

'_Scorpius!_' the redheaded witch exclaims, 'I told you not to slip into another daydream. _Please _just listen to me.'

Nothing of what she said registers in his mind except that she called him _Scorpius_.

'You called me Scorpius,' he states.

'That's your name, isn't it Minister?' Rose replies.

Scorpius is confused to see her face turn red. Is it too hot in his chambers? Or is she struggling not to laugh?

'It _is_ my name… but no one's called me that for the past seven months except for Mum and Father… It's always Minister Malfoy,' Scorpius replies.

'Is that what you'd prefer I called you- Minister Malfoy?' the witch replies smiling softly, emphasising the 'm' in both words.

'No, I prefer Scorpius. What was it that you wanted to see me for?' he asks, regarding her carefully.

'Alright then, _Scorpius_… I wanted to talk to you…' she trails off.

'Isn't that what you're doing?'

'Yes,' she replies her eyes playful, 'and I intend to continue as long as you don't slip into a daydream. Promise me that'

'I can't help it, _you_ of all people should know that,' Scorpius mutters, thinking about all the times he's sunk into daydreams during important classes, and meals and such… but never during his time with her, never once during a conversation with Rose.

She had that effect over him. She'd hold him spellbound, like she was the only important thing in the world, drawing all of his attention to her- her eyes, her words, her smirks. She was the only one for whom he'd float out of his daydreams.

But now, he's nervous. Talking to her after all these years. He doesn't want to let himself get drawn into her magic. He doesn't want to risk it.

'Scorpius?' Rose asks, 'Are you sure you can listen to me right now? I really _could_ come back sometime later. Though I would prefer talking now.'

'No, no. it's okay. I'd like to talk now. It's been years.'

'I know. Which is why I'd prefer you didn't drift off. Can we step outside?' Rose asks nodding towards the door, her blue eyes expectant.

'We could… yes, I suppose we could…' murmurs Scorpius getting up.

**Author's Note: Well? Any thoughts? This is the first fic I've started in a long time that is unrelated to any challenge… reviews?**


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